Guile and Ire
by LunarTranquility
Summary: When Alpea's wolf Crone does not come back from a hunt one night Alpea is left alone to fend for herself in the world. Wary of the danger to her companion, she immediately sets out to bring him back. Will she recover him, or lose Crone forever?


Chapter One

The wind howled furiously across the open tundra. It swept through like this every night and sometimes on to the morning. There were no trees to stop or quell the blustery weather, and it was made all the worse by the peninsula's being surrounded by the northern waters of the Great Sea. Alpea shivered. She ran her hands together and blew across them in order to try preserving her heat. There was no noticeable effect, and she growled at the wind for making the blustery continent just that much more unbearable. Elves – especially those borne of the lush green forests of Teldrassil and Ashenvale – were not made, nor accustomed, to living in such cold climates. Theirs was a warm world full of the comfort of the closeness of the brush, the darkness of forests whose light was blocked out by towering canopies of leaves. Not the desolate, barren and frozen plains of the Borean Tundra. Even with the warm under armor on beneath her pants, long-sleeved shirt, high gloves, over shorts and hooded cloak she was still freezing. Her ears were especially cold. Her hood was built to allow her ears room to move and be free (no cloak or hood, she knew, would successfully contain them). They stuck out nearly a hand's width from the back of her head and as such were not protected at all from the biting cold. Alpea would not be surprised if they were frozen solid. Her small tent did nothing to better warm her, either. It was a flimsy thing made by those used to living on this barren, freezing continent, and made only to keep the inhabitant free of the freezing rain and snow. The fire in front of them was dying. Without any trees in this place, and therefore no substantial wood, to provide for it there was no telling how much longer it would last. She had been forced to feed the poor fire with the meager dried grasses found all over the place, some few pieces of drifted she had managed to find along the southeastern beaches, and the rendered fat and oil from the two mammoths she had successfully hunted so far. She had hated to give it up – mammoths were a hard thing to kill and the materials were hard to come by – but the need for a fire had overcome her displeasure at the idea of losing the oil, and so she had burned it. It was probably the only thing sustaining the small flames. But, the night elf assumed, losing the fat and oil of the mammoth was much better than losing the expensive meat or hide, or even the few chunks of tusk she had managed to loot and pack with her. Her hands still bitingly cold, Alpea thrust them into the ruff of Crone's neck fur in the hopes of warming them. The big wolf stirred slightly at her touch and thumped his tail tiredly on the frozen ground before rolling onto his back and falling asleep once more. He had gorged himself on mammoth earlier that day and had been in a relative food coma ever since. Alpea smiled at him. Unlike her, he was not hampered by the cold. His coat had grown in incredibly quick as they traveled north, and the only problems Alpea had noticed with him were that the large open areas on his back and flanks itched more than usual. She was jealous of his thick insulating coat, though, and was not afraid to let others know of it. The skies above her were clear and midnight blue with the night, adding more to the coldness of the evening. The only illumination came from the distant northern lights and they did nothing to add warmth to the tundra. No, the fire definitely would not last in weather like this, the night elf thought bitterly. They could manage without it if they huddled again like they had the previous nights, but it did not lift her spirits to know there would be no added warmth or light in front of her tent once it had gone out. She could make do without the light of the fire, of course; both she and Crone had excellent night vision – she could hardly tell the difference between the times of day, except when her powers waned slightly. But it was the creatures of the tundra that worried her, creatures that would not be frightened to come near her without a crackling fire in front of her tent. This was Northrend, after all, and the Scourge was incredibly prevalent here. They had touched upon the natural inhabitants of the continent so that they roamed here, but they had also touched others: there were animals, huge and monstrous, that had been taken under by the plague and were not as lucky as Crone in their lives and turning. Unlike them, Crone had been found when the plague was still only eating at his flesh, and Alpea's taming him and healing his injuries had all but destroyed the disease in him. Those mammoths and wooly rhinos, however, had had no such luck in overcoming the disease and had been brought into the endless army's ranks of undead just as surely as Mor'ladim of Darkshire had been. But there were still others besides them, poachers, and the lunatics that seemed to be more common among the northern continent than on Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. She was well aware of those of the Horde that wandered here as well, as more than once she had seen a male Tauren trailing behind her. Alpea did not wish to be ambushed while she slept. The night elf sighed; thinking about all the dangers involved in working here would do nothing to help her body rest. She did not wish to go to bed just yet – Elune was still bright in the sky, after all, being chased by her endless sparkling companions. But she had not slept the night or day before, and desperately needed the rest. She finally let go of her wolf's fur and scooted back into the warmer atmosphere of her tent. "Crone," Alpea said as she lay down, using her overstuffed pack as a hard pillow. "come." She whistled slightly to get the young wolf's attention when he did little more than twitch an ear in her direction. Irritated, the wolf stood and harrumphed at her before happily coming to lie across her chest and pushing his head under her hand. It had been like this every night on the tundra, Crone lying across her torso in an effort to keep her warm and making her pet and scratch him until she eventually fell asleep. There was little change when they stayed anywhere else, except at inns he usually slept either at her back or at the foot of her bed. It was insanely comforting and never failed to put the elf's mind at ease, even after a day of hard battle. Alpea would not change the routine if she had to; even in the jungles of Stranglethorn Vale she preferred to have the huge wolf sprawled across her chest. Just to know that he was there, that he would watch over and protect her from anything that threatened, was enough to comfort her into sleep. Satisfied, Alpea allowed her silver eyes to close in sleep.

The morning was only slightly better than the night before. The wind had died down in the night, but the fire had gone out – thankfully, nothing happened to meander close enough to them to want to attack – and the permafrost beneath her boots was somehow even more frosted and crunchy than it had been previously. It would not surprise her if it snowed sometime today, although the sky was relatively cloudless. Alpea rolled her tent back tightly and lashed it onto her back. When she was satisfied with the fit she hoisted the thing onto her back and lashed the buckle at her waist so it would not bounce around so much on their trip. They needed to head back to the Amber Ledge today, and the Transitus Shield beyond it. She hoped to get there before midday. "Come on, Crone," Alpea said to the wolf at her side. The lighter yellow-gray ears perked up at her voice, and the wolf wagged his tail once more. When she was satisfied that the fire would not suddenly turn ablaze and set the tundra on fire, that Crone knew they were leaving, and that she had not left anything, Alpea turned and began trekking north, uphill. Crone trotted easily beside her as she jogged, tongue lolling out. She could have summoned any one of her mounts – her sabers, her warhorse, the bear she had been awarded by King Varian Wrynn. But the magic to do so would also unsummon Crone from her, and she would be made to trek the northlands alone. She did not doubt her horse's or tiger's or bear's ability to run from any danger, but it was much more comfortable knowing her wolf was there beside her, ready to defend her with his life if need be. He would be summoned back to her when the spells holding her mounts were broken – if she was attacked, for example, or if she simply decided to start running – but she still did not wish to chance it. And besides, it was nice having someone to run along with, even if that someone was not really a person, but a wolf, or even some other kind of animal.

The way was not incredibly long, thanks to the relatively flat terrain that was the tundra. There were small hills and depressions she had to maneuver, and a lake and oilfield she was forced to skirt thanks to the ill-tempered things in them that would happily tear she and Crone to shreds. But even with these minor roadblocks, and being chased by a murloc or two, it still took them little more than an hour to reach the Amber Ledge, the cliff face outpost that stood as a rest stop before the flight to other points of Northrend or the short trip to the dragons' Transitus Shield. This was also where a very small fleet of red dragons stood ready to attack or defend. Alpea, unfortunately, had found out the hard way that a small band of dragonkin magi had infiltrated the area, and were working their magic not far from the Amber Ledge. She had been ambushed by more than one of them – four, if she remembered right – and had been wounded badly before reaching the safety of the outpost. Crone, too, had been injured, and it took incredible coaxing to get him to leave the magi alone and follow her to safety. They had recuperated quickly, but both were now incredibly more wary of the area. Alpea did not miss the distorted blue hides of the dragonkin. Before she made her way across the small gulf between the cliffs and the smaller Borean island Alpea was sure to find the merchant. Her pack was much too heavy for her to be running around today, and she doubted the red dragon flying her across the water would appreciate the added weight on his back. "Going across the water again, then, night elf?" the mage asked her as she handed over the various items in her pack she wished to get rid of; tusks, hides, the little mammoth oil she had left, clothes and weapons she had looted from enemies. "Of course," Alpea answered with a smile. The mage took the items from her and inspected them dutifully as they talked. He set the rest on the bench separating him from her while he examined the chunks of mammoth tusk and the quality of the clothing. "I can't imagine the work going on over there," the mage said again. Satisfied with the ivory and clothing, he picked up the various weapons and inspected their blades. "There's been a lot of traffic going on between there lately. The dragons have mentioned a little about what has been going on over there – something about the Aspect Malygos, I imagine, with the conversations about blue drakes on the island. I would not want to be working over there, though," Alpea was grateful for the tent surrounding the small merchant's workplace. It kept the bright sun out of her eyes so she could see the man clearly. She did not think he truly knew what was happening on the island, even with the hints dropped to him by the dragons around here. That led her to wonder, not for the first time, if the man was truly a mage as he said, and not a dragon in disguise. Dragons, and especially the red dragons of Life, were not keen to others outside their species, and so it was exceptionally rare for a mortal to be working alongside them. "It is hard work," Alpea agreed as the man moved to another blade. "But there is good money to be had over there." The man laughed. "Bright girl, if you think mentioning the pay on the island will give you more for these pieces." He left her for a brief moment to put her pieces away, possibly to catalog them, Alpea could not see. When he came back he had a handful of coins in his fist and passed them over to her. Alpea counted, then put the coins in the pouch inside her pack that she kept specifically for her money. "Eleven gold and twenty-one silver," she said, satisfied. That was about how much she was paid for her job each day on the island. "Eleven and twenty-one," the merchant echoed her with a smile. Alpea thanked the man before moving on. There was no procrastinating now; she would have to speak with the red dragon eventually. Alpea hated doing this. Old and wise as they might be, but dragons are not often an overly friendly bunch, especially when they are disturbed from their dozing for a short ride – shorter, she knew, to a dragon than a mortal, or even an elf. The ride across to the island took scarcely five minutes, even though there was a short chain of low mountains to go over. But that was just how huge the dragons were. She would not be too happy if someone woke her from her slumber for a five minute piggy-back ride, though. The dragon all but hissed at her when she interrupted it. He brought his neck up menacingly and glared at her, his mouth open ever-so-slightly to allow for his frightening teeth to show. His maw was so huge he would be able to swallow her six-and-a-half-foot frame with room to spare. "Thisss better be important, mortal," Alpea gulped and cast her eyes down. Why she did so, she did not know – eye contact was something animals used to control others, not something dragons did. But she kept her gaze down regardless. "I apologize, kind dragon. But may I use one of your brood for access to the Nexus?" The red leviathan continued to glare at her. Alpea suddenly had the fear that he would no longer see her worthy and choose to swallow her instead, to simply be done with it. Crone growled audibly beside her. The dragon paid little mind to it, but heaved himself up and stood. Alpea was struck again by the size of the dragons. The most numerous of the drakes, no doubt, and still enormous – their large population did not shrink them. The specimen in front of her was a little one compared to the Consort Krasus and the Mistress of Life – two of the biggest dragons there were – and it still dwarfed anything else. He would be able to hold a mammoth if he chose to and take into the skies. Surely the drake would not fit into any night elf home or shop Alpea had seen. She doubted if he would even be able to fit inside the Temple of the Moon, back in Darnassus. Paws longer than her own height reached out to brace the massive weight of the red dragon. Alpea could not remember the dragon's name, but he shook himself as a dog would after swimming in water and stretched his massive wings – wings large enough for Alpea's mounts to run laps around had they been stable enough, or laid on the ground. The massive barbed, clubbed tail swung lightly from side to side, bringing forth a crescendo in Crone's growls. Alpea was forced to take hold of the fur on the wolf's neck to keep him from attacking the giant beast. One swipe of the paws or tail, even a butt with the horn on the nose, would kill her wolf as surely as a bullet to the spine would. The red leviathan observed her threateningly for a few moments more before folding his wings again and shaking his head. He hissed, "I grow tired of your conssstant visssitsss, night elf. Perhapsss you ssshould take up work elsssewhere." A smile was the only way to describe the disturbing opening of the huge dragon's maw as he said it. Alpea smiled tentatively back and relaxed somewhat when she was not met by a surge of fire in her face or foot-long teeth surrounding her torso. The dragon folded himself back onto the ground and called over to them another drake defending against their corrupted dragonkin. Evidently the show of making himself so much larger than her was just a short to remind her of who was truly the one in charge here. The dragon that met them was somehow smaller than the one commanding it – a female, perhaps? – although it was still one of the biggest creatures Alpea had ever seen. The voice did not have the same raspy hiss as the bigger male's did. It was a relief to be able to listen to a dragon whose voice did not grate at Alpea's ears whenever it spoke. "Climb aboard," the dragon said, and the elf could still not tell whether it was male or female. As she was climbing onto the huge back to sit between the shoulders the red continued, "May I suggest that you work up a stronger reputation among my brethren. Perhaps then one of us will agree to be your mount, and you will not have to annoy the rest of us in such short rides, when there are other matters that require our attention. Be sure to hold on to the scales and tuck your toes in. The mountains are quite windy for rides, as I am sure you're aware," the dragon added. Alpea quickly did as ordered and braced herself for the rough launching. She quickly dismissed Crone – nervous and jumpy, whining at her from the ground – away. Almost immediately afterward the dragon took off and soared westward, toward the mountains across the cliff and canal that separated the mainland from the island.


End file.
